


Kick Start

by aflaminghalo



Category: Batman (Comics), Stormwatch (Comics), The Authority
Genre: Altered States, M/M, Masturbation, Merry Month of Masturbation, dub con, handjob
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-06
Updated: 2015-05-06
Packaged: 2018-03-29 06:19:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,037
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3885592
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aflaminghalo/pseuds/aflaminghalo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There’s a voice in his head shouting at him not to be a fool, to remember who he’s with. But it’s so far away, and his mind’s as loose and limp as his muscles.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Kick Start

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Merry Month Of Masturbation Challenge 2015.

Of all the things he’s ever been shot by, an acute fatigue cannon isn’t something Dick had ever considered. A wave of static passes over him and a second later a sound like a buzz saw chewing a tree trunk echoes around him. In the middle of a leap between two scaffolds, his body stops responding, and Dick hits the ground with all the grace and dexterity of a wet bag of cement.

He misses landing on top of Midnighter by an inch. And the gloat he feels rising at the knowledge that he wasn’t shot first withers as Midnighter groans and tenses and springs back to his feet. He looks down at Dick and smirks. 

And Dick doesn’t care, because with every moment that passes, it becomes harder to do anything that isn’t just lying where he’s fallen. He can hear Fatigue’s helicopter approaching; the ugly buzz of the rotors filling the air like an approaching biblical plague, and he can see Midnighter’s boot right in front of his face. And he can know these things, but he just can’t care. 

Midnighter presses his boot into Dick’s face, nudging him up. When he takes it away, Dick falls, face first back into the dirt. 

Dick waits, vaguely, for Midnighter to decide whether he’s going to leave Dick to Fatigues’ tender attentions, or whether he’s going to stomp Dick’s head himself. Instead, he hears an unhappy, “Oh for Christ’s sake”, and then he’s being hoisted over Midnighter’s shoulder. 

Dicks’ head hits the small of Midnighter’s back on every footfall, and he lets it. It’s all he can do. 

And they’re in a room. They turn a corner and they’re in a room. There’s something wrong in that, but it’s beyond Dick to work out what. Maybe they rode on a bus for an hour to get here and he didn’t notice. The way he feels, it’s definitely possible. Everything is too hard to keep track of. His eyes keep closing and he wants them to. Right now all he wants to do is sleep forever. 

Midnighter shrugs him off and Dick finds himself on the floor in front of a sofa. His body unwinds itself from the pile he’s left in like a snake uncoiling on a tree branch, gravity doing the heaviest work for him. 

“’Night, B.”

Midnighter gives him another nudge of his boot. “B? Now, is that B for Boss, or Bastard, or… Batman, I wonder?” He’s almost playful with the words as he falls back onto the sofa. “I think you’re more than a little bit turned around, Mr. Grayson.”

“I’m fine.” Dick agrees, slurring all his words. Then he twists his body so he’s sat upright. It’s a lot of effort, but a far away part of him is telling him it’s important to make sure that Midnighter knows he’s not totally helpless, just helpless.

“Mm. I can see. Now why don’t you come up here and tell Uncle Midnighter all about it?”

Midnighter pats his knee and Dick doesn’t even think before he’s taking him up on the offer, crawling up into his lap like a dog that’s can’t understand that it’s too big to fit there anymore.

“I’m just really tired.” Is all he can manage before he’s sinking back down into drowsiness. Midnighter rumbles something unintelligible. Dick feels it vibrate through his back.

It’s almost incredibly comforting, being in the older man’s lap like this - half asleep but fighting it, the smell of leather surrounding them, the creaks when it moves, when they move, the arm around his waist holding him in. It's all so familiar. Dick closes his eyes and gives himself over to it. Just for a moment, he promises himself. There’s another voice in his head shouting at him not to be a fool, to remember who he’s with, but it’s so far away and his mind’s as loose and limp as his muscles.

He doesn’t realise that Midnighter’s slid a massive, hot hand down into his pants. Not until he squeezes Dick with a perfect, practised grip that his body won’t let him ignore. His hiss turns into a sigh as Midnighter rolls his thumb across the head of his cock. Dick lets his head fall back against the Midnighter’s shoulder.

“I know what you’re doing.” It’s a struggle just to get the words out. 

“Honestly, kid, I’d worry if you didn’t.”

Dick’s hips trail pathetically after Midnighter’s hand, trying to keep as much of that slow easy grip on his dick as they can, which isn’t much. Every inch of him feels heavy, and none of it is working for him. Midnighter spreads his free hand wide on Dick’s belly and presses Dick back against him.

“You like this.” His voice is a hot wet breath on Dick’s neck as his hand pumps him. “Does it remind you of home, kid? Does it remind you of Daddy?”

The part of Dick that still knows he should, wants to struggle, to get away, to anything. But the languor’s still spreading through his body and anything is still more than he can manage. Midnighter’s hand is still there, pulling him back, pulling him down. Making Dick writhe against him. Dick’s all response now, no control at all. His body’s burning hot with need and he can feel it building like the ignition in a rocket until the pressure’s more than his body can contain and he comes all over Midnighter’s hand in a sudden, almost painful, flood.

There’s no hand holding him up now, and Dick slides to the floor, coming to rest on all fours between the older man’s knees.

When Dick looks up at him, Midnighter’s smirking again. “Easiest way to jolt your system. You’ll start to feel better pretty soon.”

“You’re a real bastard, you know that?” And it’s already easier to form a sentence and not slur his words.

“Born and made.” Midnighter rests a hand on his crotch and leers at Dick proper. He can hear the creak of Midnighter’s gloves as they flex over the heavy fabric of his trousers. “And if you come back up here, maybe I’ll let you have something that’ll really get you up and going.”


End file.
